Take From Me
by Joyce LaKee
Summary: Helga's life turns upside down as big changes come to the Pataki family, and she navigates the rocky waters of adolescence and young adulthood.
1. Chapter 1

Helga G. Pataki's life derailed the summer she turned 14.

It all started one morning in the middle of June, with the kitchen windows open to the soft summer breezes and Helga scraping her spoon around her cereal bowl, chasing down the last pesky, remaining marshmallow. Her thoughts were filled with middle school graduation, and summer.

She was a girl with plans-yes siree! First, there was going to be that big party at Rhonda's on graduation night. Then after that, nothing at all to do but hang with Phoebe and the other kids. In pleasant daydreams she imagined herself sleeping late every day, throwing rocks at the river in the afternoon sun, playing flashlight tag at night, generally goofing off...

_CRASH_. Helga whipped her head around to see her mother standing in a puddle of coffee and broken glass. One trembling hand held the white handle of what was apparently the former carafe from their coffee maker-although now it was a rather evil looking object with jagged glass edges-and Miriam stared at it through bleary eyes as if she had never seen it before. She turned it in her hand, this way and that, as coffee dripped from counter to floor.

Helga bolted halfway out of her chair, and Bob, alarmed by the sudden noise, stumbled into the kitchen, buckling his belt as he did so. He stopped short when he saw the ruined carafe and the plea in Miriam's eyes.

"Help me, Bob," she whispered, before she turned and gingerly placed the broken handle in the sink. Then she swayed suddenly, clutching the counter's edge with her fumbling hands. Her legs were shaking as if they could barely hold her weight

Bob was at her side in an instant, an arm around her waist to steady her, and their eyes met. "I can't do this. Not anymore." She sounded like she was forcing the words out through a constriction in her throat. "Please help me. Please Bob, you _have_ to help me." Tears started rolling down her face.

Bob started to answer, then remembered they had an audience in the staring Helga. "Go to school," he barked.

Helga was outraged. "School? No way! I don't leave for another hour yet. I have to make my lunch, I have to..."

Bob raised his eyebrow, then turned his head and looked at her pityingly. He spoke again, and this time his voice was quiet-and kinder than she could ever remember.

"Helga, go to school. Please."

Her stomach clenched. This was all wrong. _Bob _was acting all wrong. "I could stay home and help, Dad," she suggested. Her voice was quiet, too.

He answered in the same, measured, even tone, "No. Go in my sock drawer and take some money for lunch. Then run along to school. And Helga? Everything will be all right. Be a good girl, now."

Where was the yelling and growling? _That_ was something Helga was used to. Kindness from her father was unexpected-and frightening. She slid out of her chair and minced her way around the mess on the floor. She grabbed her bag from the hall table (forgetting to take the money) and tiptoed out the front door.

She paused on the top step, trying to slow her ragged breathing. She couldn't stay here, but where could she go this early in the morning? The corner drug store was open, maybe she could see if they had the latest issues of her favorite comic books. But no, she knew she couldn't concentrate on anything dumb like that when there was something seriously wrong with Miriam. Besides, she might run into one of her friends there. She also knew she couldn't endure a bus ride full of people. Phoebe might have been a comfort, but she didn't know what to say to Phoebe, because _she_ didn't even know exactly what the problem was, and didn't have the slightest clue how she would explain it. Of course, the walk to school was long, and the day was going to be a hot one, but she had nothing but time to kill.

Helga sighed and trudged her way in the opposite direction than the bus stop.

In later times, she was never able to really remember that day, although she had a confused impression of trying to lay low and avoid being seen. She had vague memories of people talking to her and of herself not being able to make sense of anything they said. In return, they probably thought she was acting crazy, or stuck-up. But it didn't matter what they thought. Nothing mattered when her mother was in so much trouble. Miriam might be a lousy mom, but she _was_ Helga's mom-the only mom she had.

Olga was waiting to pick her up outside the school when the final bell rang. Helga was surprised to see her-Olga was supposed to be at her teaching job, and she living in an apartment more than an hour away-but she scrambled into the passenger seat of the silver Accord and buckled herself in.

Olga started the engine. "Helga...?"

"Just drive. I don't want anybody to see me."

Olga pulled out of the space and it seemed that Helga didn't breathe until they were out of sight of the school.

"Its bad, isn't it? Miriam's bad."

Olga sighed. "We need to have a little talk, Baby Sis." They were into the suburbs of Hillwood when she pulled into the Dairy Squeezy drive-thru and placed her order. She handed a cup of soft serve chocolate to Helga, and placed an ice tea into the cup holder for herself before wheeling around to the back lot that opened out onto the baseball field.

"Mummy was admitted into the hospital this morning."

"Is she..." Helga's hands gripped painfully on her cup and spoon. "Is she dying?"

"Helga, that's morbid! No. It isn't _that_ kind of hospital." Olga took a deep breath. "Helga, you _do _know mummy drinks a little too much, right?"

Of course she knew it. But it was one thing to know it in the secret recesses of her own mind, and another thing entirely to hear it talked about _out loud. _As long as no one actually talked about it, Helga could comfort herself with the thought that maybe she was wrong because she was just a kid and sometimes kids got things wrong, and maybe it was her own imagination, and not true after all...

Faced with the shattering of a cherished illusion, she rebelled.

"Listen, Olga, this is crazy. Miriam is a grown-up. She's legal. If she wants to enjoy a cocktail now and then it hardly makes her an alco..." She choked on the word, then continued, loftily. "Besides, you're the goody-two-shoes of the family. I can't believe you'd run down Mom like this."

"Listen to me, Helga. A person can't drink as much as Mum does, for as long as Mum has, without any consequences. It's finally caught up with her. She's in alcohol rehab right now. Daddy is with her. And I've taken a leave of absence from work to help out with things around home."

At that moment, some guys with baseball equipment started arriving and setting up for a practice. They were walking right past the car, which had all its windows down. Even though this wasn't the Pataki's neighborhood, and she didn't know any of these kids, Helga felt ashamed-of her family, of this whole ugly situation-and dropped her voice.

"Yeah, we'll, that's real nice and all, but we won't be needing you for very long, so don't get too comfortable. Miriam will sleep it off, they'll send her back home, and we'll go back to doing just fine without you."

Olga winced. "You're mad at me for leaving."

"Mad? Of course not. It's just we don't need you. Who do you think has been taking care of me since you left? Not you, definitely not Miriam and Bob. Just me. Good old Helga has been taking care of Helga. So," she concluded with a shrug as she placed her untouched ice cream cup in the other cup holder, "you can just go back to your hoity-toity little teaching job. And leave us alone."

"They said you might react this way."

"Who? Who is they? Have people been talking about me behind my back?" Helga's voice rose. She seemed to have forgotten her shame of just five minutes ago.

Olga put out a hand to try to soothe. "At the hospital, the therapist assigned to us..."

"Us? What _us_?"

"We have a family therapist now..."

"We don't _have_ anything! How can there be a Pataki family therapist when there's hardly a Pataki family? Bob and Miriam barely look at me..." She was yelling now, gasping in between breaths, drawing attention to herself and Olga. Some of the baseball players were looking over at the car now, exchanging uneasy glances. "And you? What do you do? Act like you're all Little Miss Princess Olga, until you _run away_ to your stupid dumb career and leave me all alone, and now you want me to go to a _therapist_, like I'm crazy and its all my fault...I can't breathe..."

And in fact, Helga was swaying dizzily and breathing too fast, her hands curled into claws. Olga jumped out of the car, ran back to the trunk, and fished around for a paper bag. The baseball coach came trotting over, followed by his team.

Olga flung open the passenger door and crouched in the gravel beside her sister. "Put this bag over your mouth and nose and breathe slowly. Thatta girl."

The baseball team was milling and jostling around, offering helpful comments.

"She doesn't look so good," said one boy.

"Want me to call nine-one-one, Miss?" Suggested the coach.

"Give her some air!" Interjected a player who fancied himself to be a leader of men.

"My sister did this once and we took her to the hospital."

"No way. When my cousin hyperventilated, we put the bag entirely over his head."

"You did not!"

Olga stood up. "Stop! Just everybody stop!" She screamed. Helga's eyes flew open in surprise; her sister was usually so refined and ladylike.

Olga turned to the coach. "Please, we're fine here. My sister got some bad news today and it upset her. Everything's under control now. Please make them go away." And she turned the full force of her puppy dog eyes on him.

The coach looked a little dazed. "You heard the lady, men. Nothing to see here."

The boys shuffled off, mumbling among themselves. Helga was breathing normally now, and Olga slid into the driver seat.

"Miriam's gonna die," Helga put her head in her hands.

"She's not going to die"

"I want to see her before she dies."

"The doctors will let you see her in a few days-and she's not going to die."

"Is she that bad? So bad I can't even see her?"

"It's DTs, Baby Sis. She doesn't want you to see her like that."

"_You_ saw her."

"No sweetie, Daddy wouldn't let me."

Helga felt her resentment fading. "Thanks for getting rid of those kids. You know, you never used to be that bossy."

Olga shrugged. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

"If you stuck around more, maybe I would."

"Helga..."

"Look-things are _bad_, Olga. They've always been bad. And then you left us. You knew they were bad and you left us. You left me alone with _them_, which is just like being alone, period. You're this great teacher, it's a fact, all your awards are up there on the living room wall. All the kids love you. But what about me? I'm a kid. Maybe I need you, too."

"Why Helga, I had no idea!"

"Well, there's a lot about _me_ you don't know."

"I suppose you're right. I don't feel good about it."

"You promise you won't leave?"

"Baby sis, I'm not going to lie to you. I have my responsibilities. You do have me here for now, and for the rest of the summer. And don't forget-you can always call, or email. I'm here for you, even if I'm not here physically."

Although she would hate herself later for being so weak, Helga slumped against her sister.


	2. Chapter 2

I realized I never put a disclaimer on this fic! Senior moment? Could be…

Anyhow, I don't own "Hey Arnold".

Thank you to all my lovely reviewers, Nep2uune, MorTay3, Anjyu, Sassyfan, CarlinJ83, HelgaButtercup and blueskieshere.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

"I'm worried about her," Arnold whispered to Gerald as they cleaned out their lockers and watched Helga race out the front door after the final bell.

"You worry about everyone."

"No, I really mean it. She's been acting very strange lately."

"Of course she's acting strange. This is Helga G. Pataki we're talking about."

"Would you please be serious? She hasn't talked to anyone in like three days-remember when Phoebe said she wouldn't even answer the phone?-and she never hangs around with us after school anymore..." Arnold slammed his locker shut and waited for Gerald to finish emptying his locker.

"...which means you catch a break." Gerald pointed out. "Most people would call that a Very Good Thing." He hoisted his overfull backpack onto his shoulder and the boys pushed their way through the jostling crowd.

"Okay, well, where does she disappear to at lunch?" Arnold wondered.

"Maybe she's planning some elaborate end-of-year prank."

Arnold thought about that. "That _would_ be something she would do..."

"Sure it is," Gerald was happy to have the mystery solved. "Now lets go play some stickball."

"Only..."

"What _now_?"

"She's not acting like somebody who's planning something fun. She seems so sad, or scared. And why is Olga picking her up every day? She's supposed to be teaching, right? Doesn't she live pretty far away?"

"I don't know, Arnold. You seem to know an awful lot about the Pataki's private home life. A little too much, if you ask me."

"Never mind about that. I think there's really something wrong this time. Maybe I should go talk to her."

"Oh its probably just some girl trouble. In fact, I'm sure it is-you know, like part of her blossoming, like that junk they show you in the video in health class. And Arnold, if it _is_ girl trouble, trust me-you _really_ don't want to know."

HHHHH

Aside from their little moment of sharing at the Dairy Squeezy,-and against all her fondest hopes-moving back home was was misery for Olga.

It hurt her terribly when she learned of Miriam's collapse, but, optimist that she was, she imagined it would be the beginning of a new start for the Patakis. She was pinning a great deal of hope on their upcoming family therapy, and she imagined that maybe she had broken through the wall around Helga, even if it was just a little bit.

So Olga moved back home and into her old room to take charge of the household while Miriam remained at the hospital. But to her disappointment, Helga was at school all day, and kept very much to herself when she came home, running to her room to lock herself in with barely a _hello._ And she was quiet and taciturn at supper. As for her father, he was at the hospital every day for hours-he refused to take her with him-and came home long after the supper dishes were cleared away. He avoided contact with both of his daughters as much as possible-and Helga, skittish and withdrawn, was careful not to ask questions for which she might not like the answers. So Olga was alone most of the time. And she grew more and more angry.

After a few days of loneliness and isolation, her nerves were jangled beyond endurance and she was ready to start screaming.

And so, she cornered her father one evening after Helga slipped up to her room and locked the door for the night, and the two of them were alone in the kitchen.

Not to arouse his suspicions, she made tea for the both of them and brought out a plate of shortbread cookies, setting it in front of him as he sat at the table, head in his hand.

"Rough day, Daddy?"

Bob grunted and shrugged. _That was his answer to everything_, Olga gritted her teeth. With a deep breath she collected herself, and gave an understanding smile.

"Well, when does family therapy start? You know, Helga could really use someone to talk to. This has been really difficult for her."

Quite ungratefully, her father didn't notice how understanding she was acting. "No therapy until the doctors say Miriam's ready," he mumbled.

Olga forced a careless little laugh, "It's been several days since Mummy had any alcohol. Shouldn't she be ready by now?"

His head reared back. "Look, I'm real tired. It's been a long day. When you need to know, I'll tell you," he snapped.

Olga wasn't used to being spoken to in that tone of voice, and she nearly apologized for her pushiness. _But wait! This is the same run-around as always!_ Swallowing her timidity, she went on, "What aren't you telling us, Daddy?" She wanted to sound firm and confident, but to her disgust, her voice shook.

"The doctors are doing their stuff. Stuff with lots of fancy medical words. You wouldn't understand," he evaded. His eyes slid towards the door and he started to edge away.

"Give me a chance, Daddy. I went to college, I might know the words. If there's something you don't understand-"

"You are going to explain it all to me?" His voice rose. "What're you saying? You got this fancy college degree so you're going to explain how the world works to your poor, stupid father?"

"Daddy! I didn't mean that!"

He stared her full in the face. "There's nothing you can do, so just drop it."

Usually that look would have silenced Olga, but the strain of the last few days gave her courage (or foolhardiness) she never knew she had. "I need to know..."

"Olga," he warned

But Olga wouldn't be warned. She slammed her hands on the table and stood up. "You know, I dropped everything to come home and help out, and all you do is treat me like a child and keep me in the dark. It isn't fair for you to just use me like this. I'm a person too, you know. Not just some...parental trophy!"

Bob stood up, too. "Don't push me, girl."

"Tell me what's going on!" Olga yelled.

He stomped around the table, pushed his face close to hers. "Fine, you wanna know so bad? Well, here you go. Your mother's been having seizures-every day. And when she's not in a seizure, she has hallucinations. She sees big, black, horrible bugs crawling on the walls. Then she feels them crawling on her. Her screams..." He swallowed hard. "I'll never forget the sound of her screams for as long as I live-so what do the doctors do? They put her on heavy sedation, and now...now she doesn't even _know_ me!"

"Daddy..." Olga was appalled.

"Oh, and there's more-you insisted on knowing everything. You see, your mother's in a weakened state from drinking all those years, not eating right or anything-they promise me they're doing all they can, but there's a chance she might not make it." He turned away and slumped against the wall, eyes tightly closed. He opened and closed his fists several times and when he spoke his voice was ragged. "I can't...I can't live without _her_."

His face started to quiver, and to Olga's horror, he looked like he was going to cry. With an incoherent roar, he raised his fist and punched the wall, then rushed to the back door, Olga quickly jumping out of his way. With his hand on the knob, he turned and pointed a finger at her, his face more furious than she'd ever seen.

"Don't tell Helga."

"Daddy! As if I would. But what if she asks?"

"You're supposed to be the smart one-lie."

He ran out, slamming the door behind him. Through the window she could see his silhouette pacing in the back yard, raging and kicking anything that got in his way. A few lights were going on in the other houses, and she heard a couple of muffled complaints from the neighbors hollering out the windows.

Olga brought her shaking hands to her mouth, horrified at what she'd done. Why didn't she just leave bad enough alone? It would have been better is she didn't know. Miriam might die? Her hands went cold at the thought. And after she reassured Helga their mother wouldn't die...

She heard a noise from the staircase and peered down the hall to see Helga's pinched, white face staring back at her.

"Did we wake you?" Olga tried to sound normal, but it was no use. Helga backed away, and her mouth opened and closed, wordlessly.

"What did you hear?" Olga tried again.

But Helga turned and fled, bare feet pounding up the stairs. Olga ran as fast as she could after her.

"Helga! Let me explain!"

But she wasn't fast enough. As her foot reached the landing, she heard the click of Helga's door, the bolt of the lock. Breathless, she pounded on the door.

"Baby Sis, Baby Sis, please open up. Please let me explain. I'm so sorry. Please, let me talk to you."

There was no answer. She could hear Helga's closet door slam, the faint rattling of the chain that worked the overhead light. Ever since Olga could remember, ever since Helga was very little, her refuge was that closet. And she could stay in there for hours...

"I'm so sorry. Please, let me come in. Please let me help."

But there was no answer. Olga didn't really expect one. Exhausted, she slid to the floor with her back to the door, eyes streaming. If ever a person wanted to take back the last 15 minutes of their life, it was Olga Pataki. All she wanted to do was help, to get some answers. It wasn't supposed to turn out like this. Now Daddy was most likely going to get in a fight with the neighbors. They would be lucky if the police weren't called. And poor Helga knew everything-and right after she promised Daddy to spare Helga-what would her little sister do?

HHHHHH

Ever since Miriam's collapse, Helga lived in a nightmare world of fear. And at last, her deepest fear was realized, spoken out loud-her mother was dying.

Alone in her closet, with the door locked against prying eyes, Helga sank to her hands and knees, curling in on herself. She crawled over to her Arnold-shrine. It was the newer one, pieces of string and discarded bits of this and that glued to an old football. She clutched it to her stomach and sat rocking back and forth, eyes hot and dry, her emotions too deep for tears.

Miriam was dying, she thought as she squeezed the football tighter. She remembered the day Miriam had found her old shrine, the one made up of bits of chewing gum _he _discarded, and thinking it was trash, threw it away. How angry Helga had been, how furious! But now, alone in her closet, she swore to herself that if her mother would only live, she'd never get mad at her again. No matter what, no matter how provoked. Only, let her live. She'd give up anything...

HHHHHH

Miriam did not die. Her hallucinations subsided and she had no further seizures. Her ordeal left her tired and pale and she slept a great deal, but the doctors were optimistic. She still had a long road to recovery, but they had every reason to be hopeful.

Bob took Olga to see her, but Helga stayed home. Miriam thought she was too young to handle it, and Helga was happy to have the excuse not to see her. The future was too big and scary and uncertain. For now, it was enough to know her mother would live.

Alone in the house, she opened up all the windows and swept out her closet. Away from Olga's well-meaning smothering, and Bob's strange behavior, she felt like she could _breathe _again. She even picked up the phone to call Phoebe, then changed her mind. She wanted today for herself. There would be plenty of time to call Phoebs later.

But Helga was wrong. Bob dropped Olga home, then went out again. Just like all the other nights, he came home long after supper, but this time he was bringing a pizza and some soda. "To celebrate," he declared.

Helga dug into the unexpected treat with gusto. "You mean because Miriam's getting better, right?" She took a big bite.

"Yes...but that's not all. I've been talking to an associate of mine, and-I have an announcement to make..."


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you gentle reviewers: Nep2uune, MorTay3, kklala1214, CarlinJ83, Aniyu, Conor Dachisen, Blinker 182

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Helga shifted uncomfortably in her seat in the auditorium between Rhonda and Stinky at graduation, listening to Principal Wartz drone on and on about hard work and citizenship and pursuing ones' dreams.

"And remember, class, it doesn't matter whether you grow up to be a garbage collector, or the president of the United States, as long as you are _the best_ garbage collector or the best president you can be."

_Yeah right, Wartzy. You try telling Big Bob you want to be a garbage collector when you grow up._

She shifted around and tried to see her father in the crowd. He sent Olga to the hospital today to be with Miriam so he could be here to see her graduate. She didn't see him, but she knew he was there. She could smell the delicate, green scent of carnation in the corsage he bought her (with Olga's prompting) where it was pinned to her dress.

She brushed the flower with her fingertips and faced the front, scowling fiercely at Principal Wartz. It used to be that sixth grade was the graduating year. But the school district went and changed everything up, so they were stuck with him for two whole additional years. Sometimes life just bit you in the shorts.

Besides, Helga was getting restless. Helga wanted _out._ Her right bun was falling asleep, so she shifted forward in her seat. Still feeling cranky, she clasped her hands in front of her, and folded herself over to stretch her back, turning herself to the right until she felt that satisfying *crack* in her shoulder. With a little sigh, she turned to the left, where Arnold sat a few chairs down past Stinky and Lila. He was looking right at at her. But before she had the chance to react, he slumped back into his seat.

She sat back, too, and closed her eyes. Arnold had changed. He combed down his hair now, and he was wearing a smart gray suit that made him look old, almost like a college student. Seeing him reminded her of her Bob's latest announcement-and her heart hurt.

But even the most long winded principal can't talk forever, and when he was finished, the graduating class processed up to the stage to collect their certificates, sang the alma mater for one last time, and finally graduation was over.

All wound up and buzzing on graduation-adrenaline, Rhonda turned and nearly smothered her in a hug. "Oh, can't you just wait 'til we're in high school?"

"Erm, sure, Rhonda."

Lila pushed past Stinky with a little _moue _of apology (that reminded the poor boy just how "purty" she was) and squeezed Helga until she thought _all _her bones would crack. "I just know we'll have ever so many classes together."

"Ever so many," Helga mumbled.

Then it was Phoebe's turn. "What have you been doing this last week?" She whispered as she put her arms gently around her best friend. "I've been worried sick about you. You didn't take my calls. Everybody was worried. Arnold's bugged me every day to talk to you."

"Football Head asked about me?" Helga turned to look for him, but he was swallowed up in the crowd. "I'm sorry Phoebe. We'll talk later, I promise."

"You_ are _coming to my party, right?" Rhonda broke in. "All of you? The whole class is invited."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Helga assured her.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you dear reviewers: readaholiccindy, HelgaButtercup, twilightfucker, MorTay3, Anjyu, Nep2uune, CarlinJ83

xxxxxx

Everybody was invited to Rhonda's party, and everybody showed up, still wearing their graduation clothes, looking mature and more grown up than ever. But Mrs. Lloyd was not about to be fooled by the outward appearance of maturity and sophistication of her daughter's friends. She hid in the kitchen, occasionally peeking her head out to assess the damage thirty rowdy ex-eighth graders could inflict on her beloved house, while Mr. Lloyd, trying to be the responsible chaperone, circulated discreetly among the crowd, stopping occasionally to ask this student about their summer plans, or compliment that student on some award they won.

Arnold stood by the buffet table with Gerald and Harold. It was loaded down with so much food they couldn't even see the tablecloth.

"Some spread, huh?" Harold was practically drooling.

"Dig in, Harold," Arnold said.

"Sure thing," Gerald added. "The Lloyd's might be snobby, but they're definitely not cheap."

Harold was indignant. "Hey, they're not snobby."

Gerald raised an eyebrow and nudged Arnold, who also grinned.

"What's that all about?"

Gerald started to sing, "Someone likes Rhonda. Someone like-likes Rhonda."

"Hey, cut it out!"

"Make me."

So of course, Harold tried to make him. While the boys scuffled and yelled and abandoned any pretense of maturity, Helga stood with a little knot of girls across the room, who were watching them with a mixture of scorn and amusement...

Phoebe nudged Helga and spoke low. "We never got a chance to talk. What's been going on? Is everything okay?"

She was trying to be as discreet as possible, and Helga took her arm and was about to steer her into another room where they could talk privately. Until...

"Yeah, Helga," interjected Rhonda. "What's with you lately? You've been acting all weird and stuff."

"Actually," Lila's forehead was knotted, her eyes wide, "_Is_ everything alright?"

_Oh great_, Helga gritted her teeth. As much as she longed to confide in Phoebe, there was a good chance she might cry in the telling. It wasn't that she was afraid to cry in front of her-as long as they were in private, and as long as it didn't happen too often-Phoebes was cool, she was an understanding friend. However, in public, Helga had a reputation to maintain. Lila was _probably_ sincere and all, but she didn't want to show weakness in front of the girl Arnold like-liked. And there was no way she was going to break down and blubber in front of Rhonda.

But now all the girls were looking at her, waiting for an answer.

She thought fast, looked Rhonda in the eye and took a deep breath.

"Well it was a big week." Anxiety was making her talk loud. "You know, lots of changes for the Pataki family."

"Like what?" Rhonda looked amused. And just a little condescending.

Helga didn't like to be challenged-or condescended to. She straightened her spine and made a haughty face that could out-Lloyd the Lloyds. With appropriate solemnity and gravitas, she made her announcement.

"We're moving tomorrow."

For a moment, no one spoke. The silence felt enormous and it seemed like everyone in the room turned to stare. Then suddenly-

"What, you're moving?"

"Oh Helga," Phoebe's eyes filled with tears

"Did Helga say she was moving?"

"What's going on?"

Faster than she could register it, Helga found herself in the middle of a pushing crowd, with twenty-nine pairs of curious eyes trained on her. Her palms started to sweat, and if there were any place she could have run to, she would have been out of there so fast...

But Helga G. Pataki wasn't a girl to shrink from a challenge-besides, it had already gone this far, might as well take it on home...

"Yeah," she started slowly, as she casually dried her damp palms on her napkin. "Well you see, Big Bob got this amazing new business opportunity, so we'll be moving out of town..."

Now she had everybody hanging on her every word, and her story started to pick up momentum all on its own.

"...To a much bigger house, you see, in a fancier neighborhood. You know, the whole upward mobility thing..."

_I'm going too far. Helga, shut up, shut up! _The common-sense side of her tried to stop. Unfortunately, her common-sense side was not at the moment connected to her mouth.

"...Naturally, I couldn't care less about money and status..."

Here Rhonda gasped.

_Okay, that one was totally worth it._

"...But you know, gotta keep the folks happy. So anyway, don't forget to write. Whew! It's getting hot in here. But enough about me, this is a party! Phoebe, go change the CD, crank up some tunes, let's get this party started. Hey!" She shouted. "Look at that...thing over...there!"

When everybody turned to look, Helga slipped out to the back yard, grinning. _I can't believe they fell for the old phony distraction trick._

But outside in the cool air all alone, her grin faded, and she literally shook off her nerves with a giant full-body shudder, and then looked around for a place to hide. Behind the pachysandra was a stone bench, she remembered. It was out of view of the back double doors. She went and sat on it so she could berate herself in relative comfort.

_Criminy Helga, you just can't stop running off at the mouth, can you? Any normal person would have just said 'we're moving, I'll really miss you guys'-at least that part of the story is true-but not me. No, I have to go and lie and make a complete fool of myself..._

Her hand went to the collar of her dress, instinctively searching for her old comfortable talisman-her locket with Arnold's picture-when she heard a twig snap and she leapt to her feet. It was Arnold, in the flesh.

"Jeez Arnoldo, don't you know better than to sneak up on someone? If you gave me a fatal heart attack and, like, killed me or something, I'd sue you."

"Sorry Helga."

He came up next to her in the dark, casually pushing back a stray hair that had fallen over his forehead and it dawned on her-Arnold had left the party just to search for her! She blushed furiously and was grateful he couldn't see. It seemed so isolated here, alone with him, and uncomfortably intimate.

"I was surprised to hear you're moving." His voice was quiet and low.

"I, uhm"

"It's gonna be real weird without you."

"Yeah, well, it's a good opportunity for my family." That was what she said earlier, but this time it didn't sound like a boast. She turned her head and he could see her profile in the moonlight. She was biting her lip, and her eyes looked unusually bright.

"Listen, Helga, it's crowded here. Nobody will notice if we're gone. Wanna go to the boardwalk and split a Sunday? "

She blinked hard. "Yes."


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you reviewers: MorTay3, LightofaNewDawn, Anjyu, kklala1214, EllieRose618, Nep2uune, Conor Dachisen

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Helga and Arnold sat at the little booth in the corner of the ice cream parlor; two barely touched Sundays melting in dishes on the table between them. Her face was a study in defiance. His face was the very picture of compassion.

"So now you know my whole life story, all laid out in black and white," she said. "Miriam's a drunk."

"Don't say that."

"Why not? It's the truth. You want me to sugarcoat it? Because I won't and you can't make me because you're not the boss of me."

Arnold almost laughed at her use of that old, childish phrase, but her lower lip was trembling and she was digging her fingernails savagely into her palms.

"You shouldn't look at her as a drunk. Your mom is a woman with a problem. And she's getting help for that problem. It's better to think about it that way."

Helga rolled her eyes. "You belong in a museum-the Happy-happy Museum of Rainbows and Lollipops. Do you have any idea what it was like living with an alcoholic mother? Bad enough she could never take care of me or pack a decent lunch or be there for my school assemblies and stuff. Bad enough she was usually passed out somewhere when she wasn't sucking down her so-called smoothies. But now we have to move because Bob thinks she needs a fresh start..."

"I can see why you're angry..."

"Angry?" Her eyes opened wide. "Me? No, you got it all wrong..."

"You're making an angry face."

She scowled. "That's just my _face_, Arnold. You see it's this way-when we thought she was dying, I swore I would never get angry at her again if she would only live."

"You can't promise never to feel emotions!"

She folded her hands on the table and shook her head slowly. "Oh, but I can. You don't seem to understand-I was willing to give up anything to let Miriam live. _Anything_." She fixed him with a stare. "So I guess the Universe heard me and now its time to pay up. My mother will live. But I have to give up Hillwood."

"I don't think the Universe works like that..."

"Oh, what do you know about it? How would you know what it's like not to have a normal everyday family with a mom and dad who takes care of you..."

He raised one eyebrow and she gasped-how could she be so dumb as to forget how Arnold's parents were missing for years?

"Oh shut your mouth Helga, just shut it," she muttered, hideously ashamed. "This would be a good time for the floor to swallow me up." And she rubbed her arm viciously across her suddenly damp eyes.

Arnold shrugged. "Listen, Helga, I'll walk you home. You wait outside and I'll settle up."

When he met her out on the sidewalk, she was pacing up and down, muttering and punching the air furiously.

"Arnold, I'm so sorry. It seems lately like everything I do is wrong. Or ignorant. Here you are trying to help me and all I do is insult you."

They turned and walked together in the light of the street lamps.

"Like that's anything new," he replied. She couldn't see his face, but it seemed like he was grinning. "But didn't you ever notice-do you realize we've known each other for ten years? We had our fights but in spite of that..." his words became hesitant, careful. "...We were friends, weren't we? And call me crazy, but there were times that...well... I thought we were a little bit more than just friends. Or could have been, under different circumstances."

Helga was so surprised she didn't see the curb, and stumbled. He took her arm to steady her and their eyes met.

"Maybe a little bit more," she whispered.

He took her hand, and she let him.

They walked in silence, hand in hand. She felt a fullness inside, like her chest would explode, and her pulses were throbbing. This was what she dreamed of for all those years. Arnold like-liked her! He liked her for herself-no tricks, no phony baloney injuries, no stupid disguises. Just Arnold and herself, being very genuine with each other-acting like normal people act. Terrified that she would say or do something stupid and screw it all up, half-imagining this was all some crazy dream, she wished desperately she could stop time, and make this moment last forever.

They turned the corner of her street and in the distance she could see the outside light of her house. Every step would bring them closer to the time she'd have to say goodbye to Arnold, and for who knew how long?

With a wild sob she pulled him into an alley.

"I don't want to leave," she cried. "I don't want to move to some town far away. I was such a stupid fool all those years. We could have been friends and instead I played head games with you to cover up my own insecurities"

"It's okay Helga, I understand better now about everything you had to face that I never even knew about."

"But it's not okay at all-don't you see? I wasted all that time, and now I'm leaving tomorrow. When will I see you again? I don't know."

It struck him with full force-she was right. This really was their last night-their only night. They looked at each other, Helga through her tears, which were now flowing freely, Arnold stricken.

With a funny little noise, he pulled her into an embrace, and she threw her arms around his neck.

"Write to me every day, Arnold. Promise me." She sobbed into his shoulder.

"I don't know your address."

"I don't know it either," she wailed.

"I'll wait for your letter."

She sniffed, pulled back a little. "You will? You'll wait for a letter from me?" As if that were the most extraordinary thing in the world.

He nodded.

She wiped her eyes on her hand.

"Wait." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a Kleenex.

"Thanks." She blew her nose noisily, then tossed the used tissue to into a trashcan. Her tears stopped, leaving her feeling bruised on the inside. She laid her head on his shoulder and he put his arms around her loosely. They stood together like that for a long while, in dread for the end of this night, drawing comfort from each other while they could.

With a sigh, he held her tighter.

"Arnold?" She whispered, lifting her head. His eyes were dark in the moonlight.

"May I..." Tentatively, he slipped his hand behind her head, and brought his face closer to hers, and she remembered that old-fashioned word _swoon _as his lips gently touched hers. She closed her eyes as a sweet, tender warmth flooded through her, making her head swim, making her very ankles wobble. This was so different than kissing Arnold because they were actors in a school play. _He_ wanted to kiss _her_ this time. She wondered if it were actually possible for a person to die of joy.

He kissed her a second and a third time before his watch gave a little beep. Regretfully he broke the kiss to peer at it. He held her close once again and buried his face in her hair. "It's getting late. I have to take you home."

Dumbly she nodded. Her lips were tingling-she could still feel the pressure of his kisses. Her folks had a curfew for her, technically, but in reality it was never enforced. But Olga would be sure to notice if she came home late. And, she would probably tell.

Reluctantly, they resumed their walk down the street.

"Everything is so different now," Arnold mused, as his fingers entwined hers.

Helga, suffused with a calm she never felt before in her life, answered. "I hate to move away, Arnold. _Especially_ now_. _ But what can I do? I'm just a kid. And besides, she's my mother. In spite of everything that's happened, if this will make her better, then it's for the best we're moving. But it's so hard."

They were at her house now, but just outside of the pool of light cast by the outdoor lamp.

"When I walk through that door, it will be the end of an epoch," she gestured with a dramatic flourish. " Arnold, don't ever forget me," she begged.

He let go her hand, removed his hat and gave it to her. "Here."

"No!"

"I wouldn't want anybody else to have it. Only you."

She took the reverently in her hands, the tears welling up again. Then she turned aside a little, and with one graceful, practiced motion untied her pink hair ribbon and handed it to him.

And for one last time, they flew into each other's arms...

The door swung open, "Helga, curfew!" Olga hissed.

Helga broke away from Arnold and raced up the stoop.

"Helga, I'm surprised at you." Olga scolded. "You know Daddy doesn't want you kissing boys. You're lucky _I _caught you and not him."

"Oh, like you never kissed a boy."

"Not out on the sidewalk in front of the neighbors," she answered drily.

"Well, after tomorrow they won't be our neighbors anymore, so there."

"And where's your ribbon? Is that Arnold's hat?"

But Helga didn't even bother to explain. She went and grabbed a large trash bag from the kitchen, climbed the stairs and shut herself into her closet. With a little dreamy smile, she dismantled her shrine, piece by piece.

She didn't need it anymore


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you reviewers: Looks Far Woman, Beth, EllieRose618, Blinker182, Nep2uune, MorTay3, Conor Dachisen, Anjyu, twilightfucker

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Helga crouched on the floor of her new bedroom, rummaging through the boxes, not too unhappily. The new house was nicer than she expected, and she liked her bright and airy new room. Furthermore, Helga really was an adventurous girl at heart. There was actually a part of her that thrilled to the idea of a new beginning and a fresh start. But the other part of her? Reduced to a quivering mass of jelly.

She slammed back and forth between her different emotions-_I'm happy, I'm sad, I'm excited! I'm terrified_...

_This must be how manic-depressives start_, she thought gloomily

She took Arnold's little blue hat out her special drawer and twisted it in her hands. It made her smile happily. It made her tear up, and she sniffed. Funny, she didn't really miss Hillwood all that much. This sleepy little 'burb was a definite step up-she had been surprised to see that her boast about upward mobility at Rhonda's party was actually correct. She didn't consider herself a snob, but she couldn't help noticing how clean the streets were here, or the lack of graffiti, and how _quiet _it was at night.

The first time she tried to sleep, she strained so hard to hear for the sirens and the traffic she kept jolting herself awake. And it was so dark, too. Back in Hillwood she was used to the lights from passing cars chasing across her walls. Funny to notice the _absence_ of something, especially when you never paid attention to it in the first place.

She hoped the kids here weren't all rich and snobby like in the TV shows she watched, but there didn't seem to be any kids on her street, unless they were all in camp or something. And in the evenings Bob, Olga and she had been busy with moving-related errands and eating out at restaurants.

She sat and hugged her knees for a moment listening to the rattling of pots and pans in the kitchen where Olga was unpacking and settling everything to her satisfaction. No, she didn't miss Hillwood, but she was so homesickfor her old friends. Homesick especially for Arnold.

Thinking about Arnold made her feel scared. All her old fears and insecurities rose up to torment her. First she decided he didn't really like her...sure, he kissed her and gave her his hat, but it was just all the drama and emotion at the time, between the graduation and the announcement of her moving. He probably really hated her. He probably wanted his hat back right now. He was probably regretting he ever kissed her. He probably didn't even tell Gerald. Or on the other hand, maybe he did tell...

Ha! Yeah, right. Helga could just totally imagine the two of them over there, laughing at her. The high-and-mighty Helga being all mushy and romantic.

No, wait. That didn't make any sense-it was _Arnold _who was embarrassed to be seen with her. Argh!

She gave the hat an extra vicious twist. She wasn't making any sense at all now, even to herself...

She heard shouts and laughter and crawled to the window. Periscope-like, she stretched up and peered over the windowsill, careful not to be seen.

There was group of kids-and they looked around her age-playing basketball at the house that was through her back yard and down one. She'd seen the hoop there, but this was the first time she ever saw actual people.

Even though there was no way they could see her, she drew away quickly from the window and sat down with a thud, trying to force her racing heart to slow.

_What're you so afraid of, you dummy? They're just a bunch of kids like the ones in Hillwood. Just like you. They can't hurt you or anything. And if they don't like you, well tough. You don't need them. You can be a lone wolf. Free and independent_.

She turned those last phrases over in her mind- _lone wolf, free-and-independent_.

Everything was changing too fast. Everything but her. The world kept moving, but old Helga stayed the same.

The same.

She rose to her feet and looked at herself a long time in the full-length mirror on her closet door. She pulled out her ponytail holders and shook her hair out. It fell along the lines of an uneven part. She had put up her hair in its customary pigtails right after her shower, and it dried funny-some sections were sticking up. Helga finger-combed through it in a clumsy attempt to smooth it down, and then gave up with a shrug.

She picked up the utility shears she had used to open the moving boxes and cut-first one side of her hair-_snip!-_then the other-_snip!_

"Helga, baby sis! What are you doing?"

Helga jumped-she hadn't heard Olga climb the stairs-and she turned to her sister, her expression one of guilt and defiance, standing between two little piles of cut hair on the floor.

"You should have asked Mum and Daddy-or at least Dad. And we have our first family therapy session tonight. What will Mummy say?"

Olga was right, of course, and Helga was starting to have haircutters remorse. Just so she wouldn't have to look at what she'd done in the mirror, she calmly turned away and laid the scissors gently on the desk.

"Criminy, Olga. Its just hair. It'll grow back, you know. Sheesh." She spoke with an air of injured superiority.

"Its just that..." Olga started, then took a deep breath and smiled lopsidedly. "Oh I suppose you're right. With everything our family's been through this past month, I guess it's a little silly for me to make a fuss over something like hair. Come here, Baby Sis. Lets see the damage."

Olga turned Helga by the shoulders so her back was to the mirror, and she submitted meekly to Olga's fussing and rearranging.

"Now look," Olga turned her again to face the mirror.

Smoothed a bit and clumsily rearranged, Helga's hair came down to her chin now, except for a few straggly locks the shears missed. But even in its crude state, the new style brought her eyes into prominence, making them appear enormous and soulful. She almost looked pretty.

Olga sighed with relief. "I planned to take you shopping for clothes-Daddy gave me some money for it-but not quite this early. I wanted to wait until closer to the school year. But you'll need to get this fixed up at a salon anyway, and...just maybe you'd like some new clothes now instead of later?"

Helga turned in the mirror, examining herself. Her pink jumper and white T-shirt were comfortable-like a second skin. But now they were woefully out of place with her new look. And now that she thought about it, she couldn't really picture herself going through high school dressed in this style. "Do we have time? Bob said he was taking us out this afternoon."

"We have just enough time. And won't he be surprised!"

"Yeah," Helga murmured. "Surprised."


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you gentle reviewers Looks Far Woman, blueskieshere, MorTay3, Nep2uune, kklala1214, KraZiiePyrozHavemoreFun, Anjyu, Conor Dachisen,

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I'm not really interested in world building as such, but Helga has obviously moved to a new town, and she will need to leave her house at some point and interact with the outside world. She is in another cartoon 'verse, which will be made clear in time (but not this chappie). However, whatever happens to her "here", this is and always will be a Helga story. All the action will be centered on Helga. For this reason, it is a cross-through, and not a cross-over.

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Bob was surprised.

Olga met him at the door first, opening it a mere crack, and then with great ceremony, she opened the door the rest of the way to reveal Helga's new appearance. The hairdresser cleaned up Helga's cut, making it blunt and chin length. She wore Capri length cargo pants and a pink tank top. And to replace the bow, she wore a smooth pink satin headband.

Olga and Helga had had an argument at the salon.

"Baby Sis, would you consider plucking?" And she gestured vaguely towards Helga's rather heavy brow.

"If by plucking you mean pull out individual hairs by the roots-no thanks. That sounds an awful lot like pain."

"It is uncomfortable," Olga conceded. "And you would have to keep up with it. But how about waxing, instead? You wouldn't have to do that as often, so there'd be less discomfort."

"What part of _no pain_ do you not get?"

"It would pull your look together. I'm just pointing out."

"My _look_?" Helga mocked. "I'm not a model or movie star. I do not have a _look. _I do, however, have some new clothes and a new haircut that doesn't make me look like a complete doofus." She turned to the mirror and shrugged. "Besides, the artist Frida Kahlo, had a unibrow, just like me. She was considered an attractive woman."

And Olga gave in without further argument.

Olga tugged her father's sleeve. "So what do you think, Daddy?"

Bob wanted to roar- Helga looked so different and so grown up. But this move was supposed to be a fresh start for all of them, so maybe that could also mean a change of appearance for his younger daughter. He sighed. "Well...As long as you like it..."

"Daddy, is that all you have to say?" Olga was deflated.

"You ah...look nice, Helga."

Helga looked in the hall mirror, and patted her hair. "Thanks, Bob." She understood how her father felt and for once was not offended. She understood it was a shock for him to see her looking older. It was a shock to her, too.

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Bob explained his errand to them after they piled into the car.

"Bud Schwartz is a pilot friend of mine who does some of my deliveries. He owns Schwartz Field. Now that I'm opening a new beeper store here and keeping the one in Hillwood and have another one planned, we have to change our contract. And maybe you girls want to get out of the house for awhile."

The airport was in the middle of the country, on several acres. There was an old-timey looking farmhouse there, a couple of fuel pumps, two large hangars, a garage, and a long paved surface with a stripe down the middle that Helga guessed was the runway.

They parked the car in the gravel lot and headed for the house. "You girls be on your best behavior, now."

"Oh darn. And I was gonna run around and touch things, maybe kick a few tires. With alacrity."

"Don't be smart, Helga," Bob growled.

A tall man dressed in a comfortably worn leather jacket and aviator sunglasses came out to meet them.

"Bob."

"Bud, these are my daughters, Olga and Helga."

Bud took off his sunglasses and smiled as he shook both their hands. He was about the same age as her father, Helga guessed, although his hair was fading to gray at the temples. And years of squinting into the sky grooved pleasant crinkles in the corners of his eyes when he smiled.

The screen door slammed, and a woman dressed in greasy coveralls bustled out to meet them. She was plump and smiling, trying to tuck an unruly strand of hair behind her ear. She greeted Bob familiarly then wiped her hands on a gray rag with a little chuckle of apology before shaking hands with the girls.

"I'm Kitten, Bud's wife. Our line boy is out sick today, and I'm afraid I'm stuck fueling the planes myself."

"How do you do, Mrs. Schwartz?" Olga minded her manners.

"Kitten," she replied firmly. "Come on inside. I'll get you girls some drinks while Bud and your dad do their business stuff. You like Yahoo?"

The office was the converted basement of the farmhouse. "We live upstairs, Bud and I," Kitten explained. Helga looked around with interest. Along one end of the room was a long counter, with a little window open to a view of the runway.

Behind the counter were snacks hanging from clips on the wall, a refrigerator full of soda bottles with a glass door cloudy from condensation, a cash register and an open log book. The paneled walls were covered in framed photographs of planes and aerial shots of the surrounding vicinity. An old, battered Naugahyde sofa and matching chair were grouped with a coffee table piled with aviation magazines. Helga picked one up and thumbed through it. She found the homely, unselfconscious furnishings warm and inviting. Kitten plunked two bottles on the counter, and the girls climbed onto the barstools. As Helga unscrewed the cap from her frosty bottle, she noticed the chipped linoleum surface. Everything here was comfortably warm, warmly imperfect. She swung her legs and decided she liked it here.

Bob came out of the back room with Bud, muttering and looking at his beeper. "Lousy interruptions. I gotta meet this contact today. Nice way to screw up my whole schedule. Gotta drop the girls off first. This is gonna put me behind..."

"How long are you going to be?" Bud asked. "The girls could stay here."

"Could we Dad?" Helga begged.

"I don't want you getting underfoot."

"Not at all," Bud assured him. "In fact, I have a delivery to make...they could come with. Have you ever flown in a plane before, girls?"

"I never did," Helga said.

"Erm, I prefer the big planes. Jet planes." Olga eyed the little Pipers and Cessnas out on the grass dubiously.

"Can _I_ go, Bob? Please."

Bob shrugged. "Fine. I'll be back in an hour."

With a hop of excitement, Helga followed Bud to a plane that was sitting out in the grass by the runway. He opened the passenger door for her and she climbed in, buckled herself and looked around. The instrument panel was enormously high-she could barely see over it, although she could see out the side window and watch Bud as he ran his hands along the front of the wings and wiggled some flap-things at the backs. She could hear some rattling and thumping at the back of the plane before he climbed in, and slammed the door behind him.

"You ready?" He asked as he buckled himself. Helga nodded and he started the plane.

Her hands flew over her ears in surprise-it was loud, much more so than a car, and the whole plane rumbled. Bud hollered something out a little window on his side, and the plane started to move. They bumped over the grassy area to the runway where the ride became smoother and faster. Helga felt a little pressure on her chest as the plane accelerated, and then there was no rumbling sensation at all as the plane took off.

Helga was amazed at how quickly the ground dropped off underneath them, and she watched the cars on the roads get smaller and smaller-they passed under her like shiny little streaks. She couldn't see people anymore.

The landing at the other airport was bumpier than she expected, but not scary, and while Bud delivered his packages, Helga walked around and around the plane, amazed that anything so bulky could hold up their weight in the sky.

On the way back, Helga watched how Bud worked the controls. There was a steering wheel on her side of the plane, just like on the pilot's side, and they were connected. When he turned to the left, her steering wheel turned to the left. When he pulled back, her steering wheel came closer. She stared at it a long time.

Bud looked at her sideways. "You wanna try, Little Lady?"

"What?-no! I can't fly."

He looked at her, all wide-eyed innocence. "But I'm getting tired. It's time for my break. You take the controls."

She shook her head, not sure if he were serious or not. "This is crazy."

"I'm taking my nap." And he took his hands off the wheel and closed his eyes.

Or at least, it _looked _like he did.

"Are you some kind of a maniac? I'm telling Bob on you!"

Bud only snored.

"Criminy!" And she grabbed the wheel.

Bud, who was in no way asleep, opened his eyes. "Pull back for up," he instructed. "Push forward for down. Left and right are the same." His eyes scanned the horizon.

And Helga did-she tried going higher, and to the right-the plane lazily turned, and the landscape beneath her changed. What a rush! She-Helga G. Pataki-was making a plane fly. Well, okay, not _really. _Bud was watching the instruments and could take over the controls at any time, but still...She pushed forward and she pulled back, while Bud instructed her to take it nice and easy. It was the most exciting thing she had ever done in her life.

She reluctantly let go the controls when it was time to head back, and when they

landed, he asked, "Shall we tell your dad and your sister how you flew a plane today?"

Helga paused. While she was up there flying, she thought she couldn't wait to tell everybody her latest adventure. But somehow, now that she was back on the ground, she didn't want to tell anyone anymore. She wanted to savor the feeling alone for a while, hug it to herself, remember the feeling of it without diluting any of it in the telling.

"Nah, Olga will just worry. But thanks a lot, Bud...I mean, Mr. Schwartz."

Olga was happy to see Helga beaming when she came off the plane-she needed a bright spot between leaving all her old friends and starting family therapy tonight.

Helga was buoyed up on the ride home, trying to hold on to the feeling of being free from the surly bonds of earth (she had read that in a poem once). She wasn't sure how, but she decided that her first flight would not be her last

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Second A/N sorry I haven't been keeping up with correspondence—have been busy planning, having and cleaning up after a mid-summer party…

Third A/N I always write two stories at a time—in two separate fandoms—the main reason being that it keeps me sharp to hold two different stories in my head at the same time. But the point being…my deepest darkest fanfiction fear is I will upload a chapter to the wrong story only to have my readers be all…."Who ARE these people?"

Don't even know why I shared that. My brain must be fried from the summer.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks reviewers, Looks Far Woman, KraZiiePyrozHavemoreFun, Panfla, Nep2uune, Anjyu, MorTay3, EllieRose618, gigi

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It was the first time Helga had seen the hospital where Miriam was being treated. She had seen some old movies set in mental asylums, and pictured that her mother was in a place like those. And so she was surprised how modern it was-instead of a decaying stone edifice, it looked like a country club on a secluded, wooded property with a spacious lobby that had a fireplace and large ceiling-to-floor length windows that opened on to a view of the woods, all in leaf in the summer. The staff wore khakis and red golf shirts with the hospital's logo embroidered on them (instead of the white coats of her imagination). They were ushered into a consultation room on the second floor where Miriam was already waiting for them.

Helga hadn't seen her mother since the day of her collapse and she didn't know what to expect-maybe she was on heavy duty drugs or something-Bob had certainly said something to that effect the awful night she overheard him and Olga fighting. But Miriam looked normal, dressed in her regular clothes. She smiled when she saw her younger daughter and came and gave her a hug, and Helga could see her eyes were clear and focused.

"Hello, Helga."

"Hi Mom."

"I've missed you so much. Your graduation pictures were beautiful. And what have you done with your hair?"

"It's all right, isn't Mummy?" Olga interjected. "I took her to the salon today."

"Its perfectly all right." Miriam smiled at Helga. "You look so grown up. It suits you."

Helga didn't have enough time to feel awkward before the door opened, and in walked their therapist-Dr. Bliss.

Helga shrank behind Olga and put her hand over the place where her locket was tucked in her shirt. This was the same Dr. Bliss to whom she told her deepest, darkest secrets back in the fourth grade when she was referred for treatment for her anger issues. And even though the doctor promised never to tell even if she were being tortured, it was humiliating to be in the same room with her again. But there was no help for it, now, and no place to hide. Helga threw her shoulders back and walked right up to her.

"Dr. Bliss?"

"Helga, how good to see you."

"Yeah I'm sure. So...you got promoted to head-shrinking whole families instead of just individual children? Congratulations Doc."

"Wait," Bob's eyes narrowed. "You two know each other?"

"Yeah, Bob. She was my counselor in the fourth grade."

Bob threw his hands up. "Oh great. Listen, Doc, what did the girl tell you about us? Whatever it was was probably wrong."

"Are you uncomfortable with having me as a therapist? We could reschedule you with someone else," Dr. Bliss offered in her calm, dry voice.

"After we drove all this way and paid all this money? Nice try. We'll just muddle through, somehow."

"Then shall we start?" Dr. Bliss gestured for everybody to sit. "Our purpose here is to open up lines of healthy communication and develop new coping strategies for the changes and stresses of life. Shall we talk about what brings you all here today?"

Bob spoke first. "Miriam's an alcoholic. You need to fix her."

"Miriam, how do you feel about what Bob said?"

"Well," Miriam spoke slowly, considering the question. "I really am an alcoholic. And I really want to be sober. But you know, B, you're not Little Mr. Perfect, either."

Bob leaned forward in his chair. "Yeah, well, I'm not the one in this place, am I?"

Helga thought Olga would put her two cents in at this point and try to make peace, but she was sitting perfectly still in her seat with a little smile on her lips.

Dr Bliss held up a hand. "I need to emphasize that family therapy treats the entire family as a single unit. Patterns of behavior sometimes become so habitual-and influence each other's behaviors-that for real change to occur, new behaviors need to be learned by everybody. Helga, you look like you want to say something?"

"Nope, just swatting a fly."

"Would you _like_ to say anything?"

"I don't feel like talking."

"It might make you feel better."

"No."

Bob glowered at her. "Oh, you're gonna talk, young lady. I didn't pay all this money so you could sit there like a big lump."

Dr Bliss interjected again. "Mr. Pataki, one of the rules here is _no name calling_."

"So who's name calling? I just said she was _acting_ like a lump. Not that she _is _a lump."

"It still counts. Helga, you're free to participate or not, but we will be discussing plans and strategies that will affect your entire family. You may want to consider being a part of that."

"Whatever." And Helga slumped back in her chair, arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Olga, we haven't heard from you yet."

Olga had been sitting quietly, watching this whole exchange with her hands folded neatly in her lap, one ankle tucked demurely behind the other. She looked at each member of her family in turn, then nodded to Dr. Bliss.

"What we have here, Doctor, is a textbook case of an alcoholic family. Mummy is the alcoholic-the identified patient. Daddy is the controlling, domineering one. You will see how they play off each other. But, Mum, may I make a suggestion? Rather than attack Daddy, you should have said something like 'I felt bad when you said I needed to be fixed'. Anyway...

"And then you can see that Helga is the typical youngest child, who acts out in antisocial ways to gain attention. Don't get mad, Baby Sis, you know you do. No wait-I apologize. I was wrong to tell you how to feel just now. And moving on...

"I'm the overachieving first-born of the family."

Miriam put her head in her hands, but Bob and Helga spoke at once.

"Who do you think you are-"

"How dare you act so above it all-"

"I'm not paying just to sit here and listen to a personal attack-"

"How'd you like me to go blabbing some stuff about you-"

Dr. Bliss stood up. "I need everybody to take a little mental space and step back from the situation. Emotions are riding high, and that's not a bad thing. Lets talk about this."

"Yeah, _let's_ talk about this," Bob agreed. "Somebody around here needs to be reminded who goes out everyday to support this family and pay the bills."

"And, Daddy, I'm very grateful for that," Olga sounded eminently reasonable, and just a tiny bit condescending, as though she were the parent and her father were the child-which was not lost on Bob, and his eyes narrowed. "But today we're here for Mummy."

Dr. Bliss jumped in. "Olga, you seem to have some very definite ideas of your family's dynamics.

"Oh, I do. I'm a teacher, you know. I had to take psychology classes in college. Besides, I've been reading about alcoholism and dysfunctional families ever since Mummy was admitted."

"Dysfunctional!"

"Yes, Daddy. Alcoholic families are always dysfunctional."

"So you read some book by a self help guru and you think you're now the smartest one in the family."

"No. I didn't read _one _book. I read _several_ books. I came to family therapy, I took a leave of absence from work to help out around the house-in other words, and I did what I had to do. Why? Because nobody else would do it! As always, I did what I had to do. I happen to love my family. And all I want is for Mummy to get well fast so we can have a normal family life. For once!" Olga's voice rose to a high-pitched squeak.

Helga though Bob would get even madder, and was perversely looking forward to the explosion. Helga was mistaken.

Bob sat back in his chair. "Actually, girl's got a point."

"I do?" Olga was wary.

"She does?" Helga was disappointed.

"Yeah, the sooner you fix Miriam the sooner we can all leave."

"And this," came Miriam's soft voice. "This is why I drink, Dr. Bliss."

"This is why I refuse to talk," Helga was sullen.

"Tick tock, Doc-the meter's running. Just tell her what to do."

"Mr. Pataki, this is family therapy. It's not about telling one person _what to do_."

Helga, deprived of the explosion she was hoping for, turned wicked. "More gobbledygook from the shrink."

"You know, Baby Sis, for someone who refuses to talk, you got an awful lot to say."

"That's enough out of you, Olga." Bob said. "And as for you, Dr. Bliss, you think you're better than us. You're the smart one and you're going to rescue the clueless Pataki family."

"Actually, you may be interested to learn that I, like many mental health professionals, see a therapist of my own, to stay on track and promote my own mental health."

Bob face palmed. "Oh great-the shrink is as crazy as we are."

"Mr. Pataki, no name calling."

"Oh yeah? Well how about this name..."

*ding*

Dr. Bliss stood up. "Alright, that's the signal this session is over. We've brought a lot of emotions up to the surface. That's a good thing. What I want you to take away from this is: rather than name calling, try using 'I' statements, such as 'I feel bad when you do such-and-such', or 'I don't like when you do such-and-such'. I'll see you all next week."

And she escorted them rather hastily out the door, shutting it behind them with a little click.

The four Patakis stood in the corridor, amongst the motivational posters of eagles, mountains, and hang-in-there kitties. No one spoke for a few minutes.

Then Miriam smiled. "You know, the snack bar closes in a half hour. Tonight they have a make-your-own-Sunday bar."

Helga looked at her mother. "I'm listening."

"How about it girls?" Bob shrugged. "Sundays for everybody!"

"Ooh, I love chocolate sprinkles," Olga clasped her hands.

Miriam slipped her arm through Bob's and smiled up at him as he led the way to the elevator.

"Mushy, mushy," Helga gagged realistically as she watched her father put his arm protectively around her mother.

"Shut up, you."

"First whipped cream," Olga mused. "_Then_ chocolate sprinkles on top."


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks readers!—Looks Far Woman, MorTay3, blueskieshere, mizreader, readaholiccindy, kklala1214, Nep2uune, Anjyu, Beth

Am posting on a Sunday instead of a Monday because I'm off to the mountains for vacation—WOOT!

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That night, Helga dreamed she was flying. She was flying the little Cessna and Dr. Bliss was in the back seat counseling her family, only her family consisted of Bud and Kitten and the lady at the salon who cut her hair and the unseen kids who were laughing and playing basketball at the house-in-back-and-down-one. Their voices were nothing more than a buzz.

Helga flew higher and higher, and the earth got littler and littler. She should have run out of oxygen, but she didn't. The higher she flew, the giddier and more joyful she became, until plane and passengers vanished, leaving only Helga soaring through a pearly pink and purple sunrise...

Her alarm clocked buzzed, and she jumped up, instinctively looking for her jumper and T-shirt before she remembered. She slipped on her pants and shimmied into one of her new shirts and checked the time. 8:00 am. It was earlier than her usual wake-up time, but late enough that Olga shouldn't get too suspicious. It would never do for Olga to guess where she was going. Helga took the brochure from her pocket, turned it inside out, and slipped it back in her pocket, heart pounding. In another pocket she stuffed a few dollar bills.

"Well, I'm off to explore the neighborhood," Helga waved to Olga after she had eaten a few bites of toast, then took her bike out of the garage. She swung her leg over the seat and started pedaling.

Only, Helga was not planning to explore the neighborhood. She headed her bike out of town, along the same road Bob took to Schwartz Field.

It took her more than an hour, and she was all flushed and sweaty by the time she turned onto the gravel drive, and buoyed up by her exciting new plan. Her legs wobbled a little as she walked up to the farmhouse, but she was brimming with confidence as she opened the office door, and her skin goose-bumped at the sudden rush of cold air.

Bud was working behind the counter, going over the books. "Helga, are you back with your father?"

"Nope, I'm back with a couple of questions."

"All by yourself?" He was incredulous. "How did you get here?"

"Rode my bike." And, to forestall any adult admonitions about the safety of bicycling out of town all alone, she rushed into her purpose. "How much do flying lessons cost, and where do I sign up?"

To her surprise, Bud showed a complete lack of surprise. Helga wasn't the first person (either kid or adult) he'd let take the controls, and for some people, that little taste was the first step in a beloved hobby in aviation. He'd even had a few who went on to fly commercially. But most of the people who'd come back in puppy love with flying became discouraged when they realized the time and money commitment involved.

He gestured to the barstool. "Sit down, Little Lady." Then he reached into the fridge and pulled out a Yahoo and handed it to her.

Helga reached into her pocket for her cash, but he waved her off. "This one's on me. First off, how old are you?"

"Almost 15...in a year." She added as he raised an eyebrow.

"You have to be 16 to solo. That's the law. No license before then. I won't even start training you before the age of 15. Which leads me into my next question. Do your parents know you're here? Or that you even want lessons?"

"No."

"You have to tell them. I won't go behind Bob and Miriam's backs. And I'll have to talk to them myself. No secrets."

"You won't tell them today!"

"No. I'll give you time to think about it. You might change your mind between now and 15..."

"I won't."

"Just the same, so no use stirring up a hornets' nest. But no permission, no lessons."

"Understood."

"Now here are the nut and bolts, as it were." And he pulled out a large binder from under the counter. "See here?" He pointed at a number on the page. "This is the number of hours of instruction you'll need. Here...is the cost of the lessons, plane rental, fuel. And here is the cost of the licensing exam."

"Wow. That is a _lot_ of zeros." Helga chewed on her straw, thinking. She slapped her hand on the counter. "Well, that settles it. I have to get a job."

Bud put the binder back and picked up a towel to wipe down the counter, to avoid looking at her and give himself time to think. An idea was forming in his mind, but he wasn't sure it was the wise thing to do. Ever since they moved here, he and Kitten had remained aloof and uninvolved in the lives of their customers and students. It wasn't that they were basically unkind, and they actually had many friendly acquaintances, but they wished to avoid the complications that came with too-close entanglements with other people. They had each other, and it was enough. It was better that way. But yet-he'd known Bob for several years, knew a little bit about their home life, and was sympathetic towards Miriam's plight. And this little lost soul sitting on his barstool sipping on a Yahoo just got to him, somehow. He wished Kitten were here so he could run his plan by her, but she was out at the grocery store. Helga would be gone before she came home. He made his decision.

"I tell you what Little Lady. My cousin owns Solly's Service Station-I don't think it's too far from where you live-and he needs someone to pump gas. It doesn't pay a whole lot, but you could start building some savings towards your lessons. Here..." He scribbled a note and put it in an envelope. On the outside of the envelope he wrote the address and phone number of the service station. He handed it to her. "You got yourself a reference. And here...Here's some brochures that have all the information we talked about in them, and a flying magazine to look at."

"Wow, thanks!"

"Now get out of here, Kid. I'll see you in a year."

HHHHHHHHHHH

A/N This story starts to take a different sort of turn in the next chapter—the Pataki family moved to another town and another 'verse. I really wanted to avoid creating a stable full of OCs, and besides, I have this theory that every cartoon exists in the same universe. But no matter where it goes, or who Helga meets, this is firmly a Helga Pataki story.


	10. Chapter 10

Hey dear readers sorry to be back from vacation—but really enjoying everybody's fics!

Thank you so much for the reviews—Looks Far Woman, KraZiiePyrozHavemoreFun, Nep2uune, MorTay3, mizreader, readaholiccindy, Autism awareness, cracklepolish, invinoveritascestmoi, Anjyo

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The ride back was murder on Helga's legs. She had never ridden so far in her whole life, and the noonday sun beat down on her, making her eyes swim. The only thing she had eaten all day was the toast at breakfast, and the Yahoo she drank was making her queasy as it sloshed around in her empty stomach. By the time she pedaled into her driveway, she was ready to drop.

Olga was waiting for her, forehead creased in anxious lines. "Oh Baby Sis! What happened to you? Did you get hurt? I was so worried."

Helga plopped into her chair and accepted gratefully the sandwich and lemonade Olga shoved in front of her. "I rode my bike too long. I got tired." _Which is the truth, even if it isn't the whole truth_.

And after lunch and a short nap, Helga took off again to find Solly's.

Despite Bud's assurance that it was close to her house, Helga didn't know the town well enough to find the streets and she didn't have a map. She took the eastbound route first. No Solly's. She tried going west. No Solly's. She headed towards the turnpike, then towards the interstate, then even to the bridge. Nothing.

Disgusted, she headed back home. She wanted to find the place today, to start working, to start making money. She was afraid if Bud talked to Solly and Helga never showed up, he would think she was just another dumb kid with wild dreams. She wanted to prove she was mature and could really make things happen like a grown up.

During the time she was looking for the station, she had avoided the street behind hers because she was afraid to run into those basketball-playing kids. But she had seen them from her window, hanging out and goofing off, before she set out this afternoon. Now it was getting late. It was almost 4:00. Time to formulate a bold scheme.

Instead of just riding by that street, this time she turned in, and rode right up to the house, where the group of boys and girls were lounging around. As if it were the most natural thing in the world to do, she rode up the driveway a little ways, stopped and waved. And when they came over to talk to her...

She _asked for directions._

_"_Sure, man," said a blue kid. "I know where it is. My dad buys gas there all the time. You turn around and go back down this street...then a left, a right, down the alley...here. I'll write it for you."

And he took her envelope and wrote down the directions.

And with a little wave, she pedaled back down the street.

The blue kid's directions were perfect. Helga went in and met Solly Schwartz, a stocky little man who chewed on a toothpick like it were a cigar and squinted at her through thick glasses. He didn't look anything like his cousin, Bud. She handed Bud's note over, and he read it in silence while she shifted from one foot to another. Then he folded it, put it in his pocket, and thrust out his hand for her to shake. "Congratulations, Kid, you got yourself a job-if it's okay with your folks. Starting Monday, 'kay? 8am sharp."

In the back lot, where her bike was chained, she gave a little skip of joy. She was on her way to flying lessons.

On the way back home, she turned into Basketball Lane (as she now called the street behind hers) and saw the kid who gave her directions walking down the sidewalk. She pumped harder to catch him up.

"Hey, Blue Kid, wait up."

Blue Kid turned, saw her and stopped.

She skidded to a stop. "Yeah, well anyway. I found the place, so, ah, thanks."

"Your welcome," he grinned at her. He seemed friendly enough, but she hadn't gotten over her little anxiety attack of yesterday, so she fell back on her old standby-boasting.

"Yup, They hired me. I start working there next week."

"Wow, neat! Congratulations. Glad I could help."

"I didn't say get all mushy about it."

Instead of being mad or surprised, he laughed as if she made a joke. "Say, you're new around here, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Helga. We just moved in the next street over."

"Skeeter. Hope you like it here. You should come around and hang out sometime."

"Maybe I will."


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks reviewers: blueskieshere, MorTay3, cracklepolish, mizreader, Sewerkingslady, Sassyfan, Nep2uune, EllieRose618, Anjyu, kklala1214

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Helga broke the news of her new job that night over dinner, although she kept her visit to Schwartz Field a secret. And predictably, Bob roared and Olga was dubious. "After all Baby Sis, its not very ladylike, is it?"

Helga shot her sister a scornful glance before turning to her father.

"Look at it this way, Bob-I'll be making my own money now, so you won't have to pay me allowance anymore. You save money, I earn money-everybody wins."

"Well, when you put it that way..." Bob's eyes gleamed with greed.

"Daddy! You're not seriously going to cut off Helga just like that?"

"What do you mean, 'cut off Helga'? You make it sound like I'm throwing her out in the street. And besides, why not stop her allowance? The girl doesn't want it

anymore."

"I really don't Olga, I _want _to do this."

"But why, Baby Sis?" Olga pleaded. "A job is so much responsibility! Wouldn't you rather to be a kid a while longer?"

_No! I hate being a kid. I hate being bossed around just because adults are bigger than me. I hate being dependent on anybody. And most of all, I hate being stuck on the stupid, boring ground when I could dance the sky on laughter-silvered wings _(she read that in a poem once).However, Helga didn't say that. "I guess I'd just like a chance to make some money," she shrugged.

"Daddy! Say something!"

Bob sighed. "You can take that job if you like. If you find you don't like it, or you need an extra buck or two, you come to me. Maybe we can work something out. There, you happy Olga?"

"But," Olga, desperate to save her sister from this latest crazy scheme, was casting about for another reason to object. "What about how dirty and unladylike a garage is? And the sweat-and the girly calendars!"

"You planning on looking at girly pictures, Helga?"

"Nope. No siree. No dirty pictures for these virgin eyes."

"Ew! Don't say _virgin _at the table!" Olga squealed.

"Yeah, Helga. Why can't you be more like your sister?"

Helga rubbed her eyes tiredly with her fingertips. Her voice was quiet. "Dad. Listen. Solly Schwartz is a really nice man. There aren't any dirty pictures lying around. He won't even hire me without your permission. Besides, he's Bud Schwartz's cousin."

Bob raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

Helga shrugged. "I don't know-he mentioned it. And they have the same last name. So-may I please take this job?"

"Okay, fine. You have my permission. But you still have to do your chores. And you have to keep up your grades when school starts."

But Olga wouldn't be satisfied until she saw it with her own eyes. She went with Helga on her first day, and talked to Solly herself. She couldn't find anything to worry about, so she gave her grudging approval.

"Like I need _your _permission," Helga grinned.

"I'm just watching out for you. But, are you sure you really wouldn't rather work in a nice, clean, feminine clothing store at the mall?"

"Nope. I like it here."

And so she did.

In truth, Helga took the job only as a means to an end-to make money for flying lessons-so it was much to her surprise that she found she liked the garage, and she genuinely enjoyed the work. Pumping gas wasn't hard at all, and Sully was patient and unhurried when he taught her how to use the cash register. In no time, she was working it like a pro. Helga found she enjoyed people watching. It was fun to see the customers-the self-important businesswomen with cell phones at their ears the whole time, the biker types with the tattoos and sweat-stained dew rags, the dads who pumped their own gas while their kids carried on in the back seat of the minivans. And then she would go home and imitate them all for Olga, who would tell her it wasn't very nice to make fun of people, but at the same time be trying not to laugh. She felt very important and grown up eating her bag lunch in the break room, although she didn't have much to say to the mechanics-they were all a lot older than her and besides, she knew that they didn't talk as freely when she was around as when they were alone.

She worked there three days a week, and was proud of having money of her own. So proud that she didn't even deposit her first check until she had the chance to show it to Miriam in the hospital, first.

"Wow, that's great, Helga." Miriam hugged her, then turned away and sighed.

"She had tears in her eyes," Helga whispered to Olga as they followed Bob out to the car, afterward.

"Because she's proud of you. And she wishes she was home to see you off to work."

"We'll, now I just feel awful, making her cry."

Olga shook her head. "Don't. And Mummy doesn't want you to feel sad. It's just that-you had to carry too much when you were younger, and she feels guilty about it. However," she laid a hand on Helga's shoulder and looked her in the eye. "This is Mum's issue to deal with. You're not doing anything wrong, trying to be a little independent."

"What, did you read that in one of your self-help books?"

Olga looked strained. "There's nothing wrong with a little outside advice once in a while. And there's nothing wrong with letting people help you."


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks reviewers!—mizreader, Sewerkingslady, readaholiccindy, zestyjudo, Therning, Beth, Nep2uune, MorTay3, KraZiiePyrozHavemoreFun

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Although that kid, Skeeter, invited her to come and hang out, she was reluctant to take him up on it. Bluffington wasn't her real home-Hillwood was. It would have felt like a betrayal of her real neighborhood and her real friends. How could she even think about having fun with new kids when her heart was in Hillwood with Arnold and Phoebe and that whole crowd? Why, she was so homesick she even missed Lila! With time and distance, her past life was becoming a cozy, pastel-colored memory as detached from the real Hillwood as a watercolor seascape was from the actual ocean. Forgotten were the fights, the rivalries, the petty jealousies. All she remembered now were the good times-like the parties and after school baseball games and Arnold. Always Arnold.

She supposed that sooner or later she'd need friends to hang around with-she certainly didn't plan on going through high school all alone-but she could put it off bit longer. Furthermore, there was the little problem that she had not actually written to anybody back home yet. She _meant _to, but somehow it just hadn't happened. And until she did write, it seemed like her new life in Bluffington hadn't officially started.

Besides, it was comfy and safe just to hang around the house and not put in the effort to talk to new people...

One evening after a long day's work at the garage, and after she and Olga had washed and dried the dishes, the family was gathered together in the living room. Olga was checking her email, and Helga was lolling on the sofa with one eye on a novel and one eye on her father as Bob sat in his armchair, trying to find something on TV. Helga usually wound up watching whatever he picked, but tonight she was too restless and bored for television, and she shifted and wiggled and sighed loudly. Finally she accidentally-on-purpose dropped her novel on the floor, making Bob and Olga jump.

"You mind, I'm watching TV here."

"I'm bored."

"Then clean your room."

"Bob," she whined. "I just unpacked my last box today. My room can't _get_ any cleaner."

"Why don't you go out and play."

"What do I look like, a five-year-old?"

"You're acting like one."

"Hey!"

"I hear somebody outside," Olga interjected. "You should go out and see.

Besides, you sit in the house too much. It isn't healthy. Maybe it's time you met the neighborhood kids."

"Like who?"

"Maybe the ones who hang out at the house out-back-and-down-one."

"What do you do all day, Olga? Just stare out the window at the neighbors?"

"No," she replied loftily. "But I have some important emails to read, and I can't concentrate with all your racket."

"Okay, fine, you win. I'll go outside and take a walk or something. And maybe those kids will be rich, snobby jerks. And maybe they'll even gang up on me and bully me. But at least I'll be out of the house getting _fresh air. _Will that make you happy?"

"Yes!" Her father and sister both replied.

Helga grumbled and swung herself up from the sofa, slamming her novel on the coffee table as she sauntered towards the door.

"Baby Sis, you're headed towards the back yard."

"So what? It's a free country."

She stepped out the back door, letting it slam as a final, parting statement to her family, then looked over at the basketball house. Sure, enough, those kids were

there.

Naturally, she didn't want to just go running over there like some dweeb with no friends, even though it was perfectly normal not to have friends when she just moved from a faraway town. So she pretended to be busy. She strode over to the shed, and with great ceremony piled some garden supplies into the wheelbarrow-noisily enough so she could their draw attention without having to make the first move-she pushed the wheelbarrow to the back fence, turned up her music to its loudest setting, settled herself to weeding the area catty corner to their yard, and waited for them to notice her.

Apparently she was noisy enough because after a few minutes she sat back on her heels and swiped her arm across her sweaty forehead, and sure enough, they waved to her. Although it was a relief that her little plan worked, now she had to meet everybody-and she never had to meet new kids since nursery school.

Rubbing her suddenly damp palms on her pants, she got up and climbed nimbly over the fence, landing with both feet on the other side.

She felt like she was running the gauntlet as she crossed the yard-everybody was looking at her. _Remember, they're just kids. Kids like you. If they're jerks, you can always leave. Your real friends are in Hillwood, anyway. _She briefly touched her shirt on top of her locket.

A boy wearing a sports jersey spoke first, "Hey, you're that girl who needed directions to the job."

"Yeah, name's Helga."

Then that kid, Skeeter spoke up. "Did it work out? Is it nice there?"

"Yeah, it's cool. It's a garage-you know-a place to work."

"So where're you from?" Asked the jersey-wearing kid.

"Hillwood."

"Never heard of it," said some girl with a ponytail in a dismissive tone of voice.

Helga put her hands on her hips. "Well, I don't think anybody ever heard of Bluffington before-I certainly never did before I came here."

"Now wait just a minute..." Ponytail looked really mad.

_Oh, this is just great. Now probably everybody's mad at me. Why did she have to get all snotty with me? I had to respond. I couldn't just let that pass. _

"Don't get upset Beebe, it's hard to move to a new town," said a girl with short blond hair.

Another girl, with green skin, nodded. "I hope you like it here," she said shyly.

Helga felt relieved she hadn't made a bunch of enemies, so she smiled back.

"Yeah, I suppose its pretty okay."

"What grade are you going into?" Asked Green.

"9th grade."

"Just like all of us." The girl named Beebe seemed to have forgiven her. "We all start high school this year."

"My name's Connie," The green girl introduced herself. "We usually walk to school, but my mom wants to set up a car pool for the days when the weather's bad. What's your phone number? I'll have her call your mom."

_Oh crud. This is happening too fast. _"She's not here..." _Oh great-now they're all going to want to know why._

The boy with the jersey asked, "Who's that lady at your house?"

"That's not a lady and she's not my mom-ew- that's my sister. She's home for the summer from her teaching job. You know, because there's no school during the summer."

"Oh okay, man," Skeeter nodded.

"By the way, my name's Patti," said the blond girl. "Does your mom live with you?"

"Well, it's kind of a long story, you see, I...uhm."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry." Patti's voice dropped. "My mom died and it's still weird to talk about and that was a few years ago..."

"Wow. Oh, well...I'm sorry." _This is getting real awkward, and a little too intense_. _Besides, now they all look so sorry for me_. "No, she's not dead, she's..." _Think, Helga! "..._away visiting my grandmother who's all old and stuff and needs some help. She'll be here in a few weeks."

"Well that's great!" Connie smiled. "My mom will call her then."

Helga sighed. "She doesn't drive." _Why won't she just let this drop? I can't blurt out the fact that Miriam's lost her license because of a DUI_-_think! "_Well, she wears these really strong glasses and..."

Patti was all concerned. "Is she blind?"

"No...She just can't see real well, and so she doesn't drive." _And I'm just getting in deeper and deeper..._

"My dad's in a wheelchair. Sometimes you kind of wish your parents could do everything the other parents do. But," she added loyally. "You love them and you realize it's not about the things they can't do, but about the things they can. And how much you love each other."

Helga was afraid to say anything else. Was there any end to this girl's tragedies?

"Are we gonna talk, or are we gonna play?" Some kid, who unaccountably reminded her of her old teacher, Mr. Simmons, tossed her the ball. "Lets play before it gets dark," he smiled-at Helga a little because she was the new kid, but at Patti mostly, who blushed and looked away with a little smile of her own.

"Good idea, Doug," Patti agreed.

Helga caught the ball. "Basketball's really not really my sport. Baseball's what we always played in my old neighborhood."

"We play that, too," Patti assured her. "We really have a lot in common."

"Yeah. Right."

HHHHH

"There, Olga. I met a bunch of kids, okay? And they're all going to my high school in the fall, okay? You happy now?"

"Did they gang up on you? Did they bully you? Was it really awful?" Olga pulled a serious face, but her lips twitched.

"Really, Olga. How do you come up with these wild ideas?" Helga decided to forget her tantrum of earlier.

And she found herself more often than not hanging out with that "bunch of kids" after dinner in the evenings. If there was a pickup game of anything, Helga was a part of it.

She hadn't played any sports at all since Miriam got sick, and she found she played differently now. She played for the sheer the physicalness of it-she played hard, until she became a formidable opponent through her sheer tenacity, until her muscles ached, until she played out her frustrations and griefs-until she dropped into bed exhausted at night. Which she knew was good for her.


	13. Chapter 13

Thank you reviewers: readaholiccindy, Zestyjudo, MorTay3, Sewerkingslady, mizreader, Therning, Autism awareness, Nep2uune, KraZiiePyrozHavemoreFun, Looks Far Woman, thedoraemons7

HHHHH

A few weeks into her job at Solly's, one of the regular guys left for vacation, and Solly, short-handed, decided Helga could have more responsibility. He showed her how to change oil and filters, vacuum the upholstery, apply wax. These responsibilities came with a small raise, and she watched her bank account grow with glee, bringing her even closer to her flying lessons. Earning money gave her pride, and being out of the house let her push her worries about Miriam to the back of her mind for a little while.

For the first time in her life she had self-respect-not that bully bravado she cultivated in her childhood to use as a wall against hurts and disappointments, but a real sense of self that came from the pride of learning new skills and from having a purpose. This confidence gave her a swagger, and with her haircut that made her eyes look soulful, and her flattering new clothes, she made a striking appearance. When she walked down the street now, sometimes guys would even turn to stare after her. Furthermore, she knew it and didn't altogether hate it, even if her heart did belong to Arnold.

She was also learning all she could about aviation. True, Bud refused to teach her at all while she was still only 14, but he couldn't stop her from taking books out of the library to read on her own. When she opened her first book she was dismayed-Bud wasn't kidding when he told her there was a lot to learn. But it didn't matter. She decided to buckle down and get some of the book knowledge out of the way so she'd be ready to start next year. She'd show that Bud Schwartz- yes sir, Helga G Pataki did not just fall off the turnip truck! She imagined herself at her very first lesson dazzling him with her knowledge of flying. She'd show him she was serious about being a pilot...

At night, when she lay in bed with the breeze blowing in the window, she thought about Arnold. She remembered the feel of his arms around her, the sensation of his kisses. She shifted restlessly and squeezed her pillow. She still hadn't written to him, despite her promise. She had to write to him. She had to write soon. Summer was half over already and she hadn't written to anyone-not even dear little Phoebe. Then, overcome by guilt, she would fling the sheet back and throw herself into the desk chair...and there she would sit, pen poised over paper-paralyzed by that same awful fear that took over her the day she cut her hair. The fear that he never really cared for her-that their childhood animosity was still his true feeling toward her. The fear that he didn't want her. The fear that he wouldn't write back. And she would sit...and sit...

She didn't write a single word.

HHHHH

"There seems to be some tension between you and Olga tonight," Dr Bliss observed.

"That's because my sister has a big, dumb mouth."

"No, Baby Sis. I was merely being honest."

"You call that honesty? Blabbing our problems to the whole universe?"

"One next door neighbor is hardly the entire universe."

"Which neighbor? What did you tell her, Olga?" Bob asked.

"Mrs. Madd from next door. She asked about Mummy, and I merely said she was getting help with her alcohol problem."

"You did what?" Bob shouted.

"Daddy, it was the truth!"

"So let me get this straight," Bob gripped the arms of his chair. "You just run up to perfect strangers and throw our dirty laundry in their face."

"It wasn't like that at all. Mrs. Madd's son went through the exact same thing. He is a recovering alcoholic, and they did rehab and family therapy, just like us. She told me all about it. You know, we're not the only people in the world to ever go through this."

"Mrs. Madd can tell anybody anything she likes about her own family. Not you. Did you ever stop to think that maybe I want to be better than other people?" Bob replied.

"Ha. We got a long way to go before that," Helga muttered.

"What do you mean by that remark?"

"You want to be _better_ than other people? I'd just like to rise to the level of _equal_ with other people."

"Helga," Dr. Bliss interjected. "You seem to think your family life is somehow inferior to other people's families."

"Erm, duh."

"And why is that?"

"Nobody else I know is in family therapy."

Dr. Bliss steepled her hands. "Might I suggest that you really don't know that for certain? Because we, as professionals, are under a strict code of confidentiality, nobody outside your family can possibly know you're here unless you choose to tell them. Your neighbor chooses to talk about it to other people. Your father, and apparently you, prefer to keep it more confidential. There is no right or wrong decision about this, unless keeping secrets isolates you and does more harm than good, or helps to enable the self-destructive behavior. But your family is definitely not the only family in therapy."

Helga frowned. "That sounds great and all, but what if you got a big-mouthed, blabby sister who runs around and tells?"

Olga reached out to touch Helga's arm. "Maybe I'm tired of pretending. Maybe I learned that nobody else can help you if you keep everything a secret. Maybe I'd like an authentic life for once."

Helga yanked her arm away. "And maybe I don't want people to look at us and think, 'there goes the family with all the problems'. And maybe I'd like to just look good for once. I'm siding with you on this one, Bob."

"That's an interesting statement, Helga. You like to maintain a certain image." Dr Bliss' pen scratched her paper.

"Somebody makes sense in this family," Bob muttered.

Helga glanced at her father before she replied to Dr. Bliss. "Well, this whole thing is embarrassing and I don't want to talk about it."

"Keeping secrets is important to you?"

"Yes," Helga said. "I don't want to be laughed at or pitied."

"We all want to have dignity," Dr. Bliss prompted.

"Yes."

"And you feel like you haven't had very much."

"Well," Helga looked at her hands. "Look at me. I didn't exactly win the genetic lottery over here-other girls are mostly way prettier than me. And furthermore, other girls do that whole feminine girly-girl thing better than me."

"I seem to remember you get good grades."

"I do. But not the _best_ grades in the class. It would be nice, for once, to have something to be proud of. Or someone."

"And what would make you proud?"

_A private pilot's license. _She thought. Out loud, she said, "Look, all I know is...I had to be tough. I couldn't be all soft and girly. Miriam _wasn't_ tough. I have to be me."

"I'm sorry Helga," Miriam said, her eyes bright with tears. She looked up at the ceiling then blew her nose. "I'm afraid you're right. I should have been tough so you could be soft-at least sometimes. When I come home, I'll be somebody you can lean on."

Helga looked at Miriam a long time. "You know, Mom, it wasn't _all_ bad-growing up with you and everything-I did learn to stand up for myself and carve my own way."

"Thank you, Baby. But things will be different when I come home. Better than before. I'm working very hard here to become a mom you can lean on. And hopefully be proud of."

Helga's eyes filled with tears, and just as they were about to overflow, she jumped up and ran to her mother. They both hugged and cried.

It was the first time Helga hugged her mother of her own accord since before her collapse.


	14. Chapter 14

My reviewers are awesome! mizreader, Therning, Nep2uune, MorTay3, Looks Far Woman, HolmesSlice, Wonner, Total drama pokemon, MusicGal, KraZiiePyrozHavemoreFun

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Bob brought Miriam home at the beginning of August. She hugged both her daughters as Bob carried her luggage into the house and up to the master bedroom, but had little to say. Although she smiled and nodded politely as she walked through the rooms of the new house, she seemed relieved to be done with the tour and anxious to sink into the couch. The rest of the family perched on the chairs and the other sofa, looking at each other nervously. Helga twisted her hands in her lap.

Bob broke the silence, "How about dinner out tonight, Miriam? There's a pizza place just a few blocks over."

"Ugh, no. I just want to get back to normal life, and no," she amended looking around at her family, "not the old kind of normal, I mean a really, truly, normal family life."

"So what are you saying, mummy?" Olga asked.

"I'm going to cook supper tonight!"

"Oh," Olga was dubious. "What were you planning?"

"Spaghetti, red sauce, meatballs..."

Helga's stomach clenched. This was regular conversation-like people in other families had. A regular, normal conversation about what to make for dinner. And a normal dinner, too-not cold cereal, not a roast that was either overcooked and inedible, or undercooked and disgusting-with any old whatever as a side dish. Here was Miriam trying to be like a regular mom. Only-

A couple of times in the past, Miriam made half-hearted attempts at self-improvement, and Helga would get all happy and hopeful, only to get sad again when it didn't work out, and her mother relapsed. Helga didn't know if she could take that kind of disappointment again. Miriam was trying-she seemed sincere. But sincerity didn't guarantee she'd stay on the wagon.

She slipped upstairs to her room while Miriam made dinner under Olga's anxious supervision and sat on her bed, rocking back and forth and clutching her locket in one hand and Arnold's hat in the other as if they were magic talismans.

"Helga, dinner!" Miriam called to her, and she crept downstairs. _Oh well, if this doesn't work out, I can always have cereal later._

The table was set outside on the veranda, all the better to enjoy the balmy summer breezes. They sat down and helped themselves. Helga put the first bite of pasta in her mouth, and her eyes opened wide.

"Miriam, this is delicious! When did you learn how to cook?" She exclaimed.

Miriam smiled, but Olga kicked her under the table.

"Ow, Olga!"

"Helga!" Olga stage whispered. "Don't ask that."

"Oh, it's quite all right, Olga," Miriam replied. "I learned from my mother. Back in the

day I used to win awards at the local fairs for my tomato sauce. Yep, I have my ribbons packed away somewhere."

"You should bring them out and display them," Olga suggested.

"Way to a man's heart is through his stomach, right Bob?" Helga couldn't resist mocking, but she intercepted a look between her parents that made her feel embarrassed and she dropped her eyes to her plate. There was so much about her mother she didn't know. _Well, I guess it's hard to get to know a person when they're wasted all the time_.

That night Helga sat in bed with her diary open on her knees. She could hear her parents in the next room, moving around, putting Miriam's belongings away, talking, talking. She couldn't hear any distinct words, just the low rumble of her father, the higher tones of her mother. It got later and the bed creaked as they climbed in, and she could still hear them talking for quite a while. Then she didn't hear anything at all except the soft hum of the air conditioner. Eventually, she heard her father snoring.

Miriam's soft footsteps were in the hall now, and the bathroom fan went on. Then a toilet flush and Miriam's footsteps again, this time on the stairs.

Helga had a terrible thought. Was she going downstairs to drink in secret? There wasn't any booze in the house-Bob dumped it all when they moved-unless Miriam had somehow managed to smuggle some in. Helga climbed out of her bed and tiptoed after her, and followed the light to the kitchen where she could hear her mother rooting around.

Miriam was wearing some long, silky nightgown with a sheer, diaphanous robe thingy over top. As Helga watched, she poured hot water from the kettle into a teacup, bobbed the tea bag slowly a couple times then tossed it in the trash. Her face was slightly flushed and she was smiling at some invisible something in her tea. She sighed as she sank into her chair at the table.

"Miriam?"

Miriam jumped, and ran a hand through her disheveled hair. "Oh Helga, did we-I wake you?" Her flush deepened slightly.

"No."

Miriam looked relieved.

"What are you doing?" Helga asked.

Miriam held out her cup with a grand gesture. "Here, sip."

Helga took it from her mother. "What?"

"I'm not drinking, Helga. Well, not alcohol, anyway. Just some chamomile tea."

Helga sipped and wrinkled her nose at the cloying taste.

"Don't you have work in the morning?" Miriam asked.

"Yes."

"Were you checking up on me? No don't answer that. It's perfectly understandable and I'm not mad. It's an adjustment being home, Helga. It's going to take time. For all of us." She reached out her arm and hugged her daughter around the waist. "I don't want you to worry unnecessarily. I'm getting help for my addiction. You'll even get to meet my AA sponsor soon. But I really want us to be open and honest with each other."

"Yeah, I want that too. Goodnight, Mom," Helga replied, and in a rare show of affection, kissed her mother on top of her head.


End file.
